Traditions
by Shadow Mage Evelyn
Summary: A Christmas fic that takes place in my FMA Utopia Universe. You'll understand when you read it. MERRY CHRISTMAS!


Written in the FMA Utopia Universe…you'll understand what I mean when you read it.

**TRADITIONS**

Every year it was the same thing.

If he could have his way, he'd just sleep away the whole damn day, and in fact that was all that he ever put on that stupid Christmas list: to let him sleep in. That's it. That's all he asked for. Just a simple request, one that could easily be fulfilled with the minimal effort. It was fair, right? There was no reason for them to cruelly wrest him from the warmth of his blankets and from the comfortable softness of the mattress, was there? All he wanted was to be able to continue to listen to the sweet siren call of the land of slumber.

But did they ever let him sleep in?

No. Of course not.

They could never be kind to him. To this day, he still wasn't sure what all the fuss was for over this particular day out of all the other 365. The sun still rose and set like every other day, didn't it? In his professional opinion, it was still too cold and still too bright to be getting up before 2 in the afternoon. Only crazy people did that.

_They_, of course, insisted it was for his own good and to make sure he didn't completely revert to his family's inherent antisocial ways. After all, they reminded him, behavior of that kind would only make him more like his father.

Damn them and their stupid logic…

But really, what was the big deal? Would it _really_ hurt them to let him sleep in _just once_? Just. Once. That's all he asked. If they would_ just_ let him sleep in on that day _just once_, he could die happy.

Alas. It appeared that his hopes were going to be short lived yet again. He could hear the door to his room creak open, and the sound of obnoxiously cheerful voices giggling outside in the hall. He kept his eyes shut and tried to find that quiet place again, hoping beyond all hope that maybe—just maybe—they would finally find a tiny bit of pity in their hearts for him and let him sleep. Or, they'd think he was dead. Either way would be fine, as long as they left him alone.

"Okay, Elysia. Time to wake up your big brother!" he heard that annoyingly familiar voice coo.

Then the quick, light steps of a person of small stature.

Coming closer.

Rats.

A small body landed on him a second later, tiny knees digging into his back.

"Hnnnnnhhh…" he emitted softly.

"Edward!! Get up!!!"

"Nnnnnghh…"

"Please, Edward?? It's Christmas!!"

He shut his eyes tighter and buried his face into the blankets. No. He would not be swayed by the cuteness, no matter how friggin' adorable it was. It just wasn't going to happen.

A minute after that decision, another body landed on him, this one a little heavier and teenage sized.

"Brother!! Get up!! It's Christmas!!!"

"Ngh…unnnnnh…"

"Come on, Brother! Rise and shine!"

This one he could murder. But that would mean having to leave the bubble of warmth he had managed to successfully forge about his body. Curses…

He settled for curling up further and pulling the blankets over his head.

That's when the third body hit him. Again, this one was heavier and teenage shaped, and it began to bounce up and down beside him, trying to either bounce him off the mattress or get him so motion sick that he'd have to expose his body to the cold to hurl. But they clearly were not aware of who it was that they were dealing with. He had withstood the ups and downs of a search that everyone thought was fruitless for four years, chasing after a stone that he hadn't been entirely sure existed. This was a minor inconvenience compared to that. He could take this.

And then the poking started.

Did they have a death wish? Did they really want to die? Because he could remedy that with no qualms. Honestly, it would be no problem.

"Ed! Get up!!" came the female voice belonging to the third person, whom he was sure was the main perpetrator. When she got no forthcoming response from him, she started to aim her attacks at those specific spots on his sides that everyone seemed to know existed, though he tried to hide it from them. Dammit! He emitted an incoherent protest and squirmed away, managing to somehow work his way down into a corner of his bed and disappear into the mounds of blankets.

And now he was all too aware that he had finally worked himself into that proverbial spot between the rock and the hard place. He could only hope at this point that there would not be a repeat of last year. In that instance, the owner of the house had finally had enough of the antics and had come in to remedy the situation, which had meant heartlessly reducing him to a squirming, crying mess of hysterical laughter. To this day, he still didn't know how those ten harbingers of ticklish doom (sneakily disguised as human fingers by day) had managed to slip past his guard, nor how they'd known exactly where to hit to render him so utterly senseless. That thought in mind, he tucked his arms tightly around his hypersensitive sides. He'd be damned if he'd fall victim to _that_ twice.

That's when he heard the heavy footsteps of an adult male, followed by the giggles of the attack squad surrounding him. He knew the situation could only go downhill for him now, but since 90 of his body still refused to completely abandon sleep of its own free will, he could do nothing but lie still, await his fate, and pray that they would think he was dead.

Crap. He suddenly realized that his breathing was giving him away. Maybe if he held his breath…?

Before that thought could fully form, his warm, happy world exploded into a flurry of motion that he was completely unprepared for. The bottom edges of his blankets were suddenly torn out from under the mattress, and the next thing he knew, he was being bundled up like a sack of potatoes and slung over the back of his attacker.

Dammit! He hadn't been expecting them to kidnap him from his bed! How could he possibly counter such a devious move?! With his knees pressed up firmly against his chest, and his feet and hands trapped in the folds above his head, he soon found that there was nothing he could do but wiggle around helplessly. He tried to get a hold and pull part of the blankets loose—any part, it didn't matter as long as there was freedom on the other end—but he couldn't get his hands at precisely the right angle to follow through with the motion, and his captor's grip was simply too tight.

"Ngh!" he protested, humiliated that he was reduced to basic immobility. "Dammit, Hughes! Put me down!!"

"Okay, everyone," Maes Hughes said, ignoring the request and readjusting his bundle over his shoulder. "Let's go!"

"Yay!" his daughter Elysia, Alphonse Elric, and Winry Rockbell all cheered, rising from the now empty bed. They followed Hughes downstairs, their grins widening with every squirm and curse that emitted from the makeshift sack.

"Damn you all!" they heard the captive cry.

Despite his every effort to make it otherwise, he quickly surmised that, yes, he was quite assuredly caught, and he also concluded that all pleas for liberty from the all-encompassing blankets would be completely ignored. It was at this point that he finally surrendered to his fate and allowed—not that he _really_ had a choice in the matter, but it made him feel better to say that he _allowed_ them to carry him down into the living room of the Hughes household.

"Okay, Gracia! Everyone's here!" Hughes said to his wife as he entered the room, making his way past the tree and gently placing his bundle onto the floor a few feet away from the first row of gifts. As the blankets fell away, they revealed a very grumpy, very sleepy Edward Elric. He sat still for a moment, blinking his eyes sleepily, his hair hanging around his shoulders in slightly mussed golden waves.

"I hate you," he said, glaring with his bright golden eyes up at Hughes. The man only smiled and reached down, pushing back the blankets resting on the eighteen year old's head so that he could gently ruffle his hair.

"Yeah, yeah. We know."

Edward humphed, satisfied.

Shortly after, they began the grand production of the flying Wrapping Paper Ballet, a dance that took place every year on December 25. It would not satisfy the natives to quietly unwrap the gifts. No, no. They had to do it loudly and with great, theatrical flourish. This act comprised the opening of gifts sent from "Santa" (whom Edward had ceased to believe in at four) while the ones from "the family" would wait until after the day long intermission. Act I was full of mischief and joy, pleasure and triumph. It was fraught high with emotion and charged with energy. The lead role was played by the sweet Elysia Hughes, an up-and-coming star on the scene, only just turned six last February. She went about her work like a professional, dealing straight away with the business at hand, performing masterfully and without error. Her actions were innocent and pure, yet at the same time rambunctious and untamed. She was the picture of youthfulness, and the paparazzi simply loved her, bulbs flashing wildly every second, trying to imprint that charming little face permanently in time.

While Edward would not deny how overwhelmingly adorable it was to see little Elysia's head come popping up out of the pile of brightly colored paper, her smile sweet and radiating, he really didn't see any particular reason as to why Hughes found it necessary to take a million pictures of the same event. Then he remembered how fond the man was of attacking the unsuspecting victim with a barrage of photos. He also remembered very clearly having destroyed several of the photos in Hughes's arsenal, only to have them reappear, miraculously, under his nose when he once again was subjected to the parade of cuteness. Watching Hughes snap away with the camera, the pieces suddenly fell into place as to how such a phenomenon could occur.

"Oy," he muttered, shaking his head.

"What? Are you Jewish now?" Hughes said, having heard the comment.

"…if I'm Jewish, will you let me sleep in on Christmas??"

"No."

"Dangit!! What is it with you people??"

"Edward, it is clear that you do not understand. Getting you out of bed on Christmas morning is a ritual that we have come to love and cherish."

"Joy. So what are you going to do when I stop coming here because I'll be in my own house?"

"Oh, don't worry. We'll just come to your house and get you out of bed there!!"

Edward just sat and blinked at Hughes.

"You would come to _my_ house to drag me out of _my_ bed, the bed that _I_ paid for with _my own money_…just to continue this sick, twisted ritual??"

"Yup!"

Edward sank down further into his pile of blankets.

"Christmas is the holiday of sadists."

Hughes just laughed.

"You don't _really_ hate Christmas, do you, Edward??"

Edward looked over to see Elysia staring at him over her pile of paper in bewilderment. He could feel himself sweating under that innocent, green-eyed gaze. It took him a moment to realize that all the action in the room had ceased as all eyes focused on him. He rubbed the back of his neck for a moment before answering.

"Well…no, I don't really _hate_ Christmas…it's just that…I don't really understand what the big deal is, you know?"

Elysia smiled brightly at this and stood up, smoothing out the skirt of her nightgown and assuming the pose of a saintly Sunday schooler.

"Christmas is the day that Jesus was born," she told him, her tone matter-of-fact. "He's our Savior, and the Son of God."

Edward just smiled and rubbed the back of his neck again. How could he explain to a six year old that he just didn't believe in God anymore? In the end, he just decided to leave well enough alone. He reached across the paper mountain with a bright smile and rubbed her head.

"Thanks, Elysia."

She smiled widely and nodded, sitting back in her pile.

The merriment continued after that, with Edward managing through Herculean effort to wake up and shake off his stupor enough to join in. Alphonse and Winry had a wrapping paper fight, balling the paper up and throwing it at each other across the room. Winry, who was losing badly, ran over to Edward and grabbed him by the shoulders, ducking down behind him.

"I have a hostage!!" she cried, while everyone just laughed at Edward's thoroughly bewildered look.

"Hey!! Don't drag me into this exchange of immaturity!!" he objected. "You got yourself into this mess, and I'm not going to get you out!!"

"Yes you will!! Alphonse would never hit his own brother!!"

Alphonse and Edward snorted.

"You don't know me very well, do you?" Alphonse said. He brandished yet another bundle of paper. Winry, meanwhile, hid down behind Edward, positioning herself so that he would get hit instead of her.

"Hey!!" he protested, his gaze jumping between the two in panic.

Alphonse rushed over and put a hand on Edward's shoulder, tilting him forward to reveal Winry.

"Don't worry, Brother!! I'll rescue you!!" he cried in triumph, hitting the girl.

Edward rolled his eyes.

"My hero," he responded flatly as Winry squealed in protest and took off to hide behind the chair.

Thusly did it continue, this huge bout of controlled chaos. They all laughed as Alphonse got dumped into a particularly huge mountain of paper after making a smart remark to Hughes. Edward left the shelter of his blankets to tackle the man in retaliation, and an impromptu wrestling match ensued, with Gracia begging them to stop before they knocked over the tree. Finally, things calmed down, and Gracia took the two girls into the kitchen to help her bring out the breakfast food.

Edward and Alphonse helped Hughes clean up the wrapping paper in the meantime, Alphonse holding the bag while Edward and Hughes shot the bundles in like basketballs. It was no contest. Edward won 20 to 4 (mainly because he found more wrapping paper and had better aim, but that didn't matter since a win was still a win). Edward then took his blankets and went upstairs to return them to his bed. He grumbled as he tucked the corners back in, knowing that they would never be the same and would never be as satisfyingly secure when he slept. That done, he decided that, while he was here, he might as well get dressed since they most assuredly wouldn't let him go back to sleep. Not after all the fuss they'd made just to wake him up. As he turned to find his suitcase, he jumped when he found Hughes leaning in the doorway.

"Ack!! Jesus, Hughes!!" he said, putting a hand against his heart. "That's a great way to give a guy a heart attack at a tender age!!"

Hughes smirked.

"Here," he said, tossing a package over to Edward. It was wrapped in red and green paper.

"What's this?"

"It's from me. Go ahead, open it."

Edward shrugged. He figured now would be a good time to educate Hughes on the proper technique to utilize when unwrapping a gift. It was a delicate process, not a chance to release savage fury. He could hear Hughes chuckle, and he only grinned boyishly, slowing further to drag this out for as long as possible. Just for spite.

When he finally opened it, he paused as he saw what was inside.

"A photo album?" he asked. "Don't tell me it's full of pictures of Elysia!!"

Hughes laughed at that one.

"Maybe you should look inside instead of asking so many ridiculous questions."

Edward sat down on his bed and flipped through the album. He was surprised to find pictures of himself, starting with age twelve and continuing on until the present day, chronicling events like his birthdays, other Christmases, and times when Hughes had managed to catch him unawares while he was conducting research or fully immersed in another project. (The quality of the photos was excellent. Hughes had quite obviously landed himself in the wrong profession.) The last picture in the album was of him, Alphonse, and Winry standing in front of a train at the Central Station, taken just yesterday as they'd come down off the train.

He looked up at Hughes in surprise.

"It's just a little reminder as to where you've been and, in a way, where you're going. You've done a lot, Edward, and you've accomplished much in six short years. It's been a tough road, but I don't want you to forget that there were good times along that road, either."

Hughes's smile was kind, and the look on his face was of a father looking at a child. He walked over and rubbed Edward's head again, a familiar gesture between the two of them.

"Merry Christmas, Ed."

Edward didn't know what to say. He suddenly found he was having a hard time swallowing past the lump forming in his throat, and he didn't look at Hughes, not sure that he could hide the moisture gathering in his eyes. He didn't know it, but he didn't have to say anything. Hughes knew just the same. He could see the look on Edward's face, even though the young man was trying to hide it. With another smile, he turned and walked out to the hallway.

"Hurry up and dress. We're going to eat in a few minutes," he said, pausing by the door. Edward looked up and smiled.

"Thanks, Hughes."

Hughes smiled and walked away.

Edward ran his good hand over the cover of the album, his eyes softening. He had just set it on the bed beside him when Hughes poked his head back around the door.

"But if you want to see pictures of my daughter, I'd be happy to show you!!" he teased.

"Get out of here, you bastard!!" Edward yelled, picking up a boot and throwing it at Hughes's head. Hughes took off running down the hallway, his maniacal laughter echoing down the stairs after him.

**MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!**

**LOVE, SHADOW-MAGE-EVELYN**


End file.
